"Really!" said the captain. "Well, it's a good wine, ma'am. Now, bo'sun, pipe the men outside."
"Won't you try a bottle of claret, sir?" said the landlady with persuasion.
"No," said the captain, "later on, perhaps. I'll see. By the way, is there any old barn about where I could quarter my men? I'm loath to billet them on the village."
"No, I don't know anywhere," returned the landlady. "Do you, Mr. Rash? Perhaps you'd loan the schoolhouse to the captain?"
"Yes, and give us a holiday for once in a way!" chimed in the potboy.
"It's not to be thought of," said the schoolmaster, walking out of the inn.
"No one uses the church on weekdays, I suppose," said the captain. "I daresay there's room for them there, in the vestry or the tower perhaps, or even in the crypt."
"Them drunken ruffians in the church!" cried out young Jerk, pulling a horrified face, and indicating the rough sailors who were now outside the inn. "You'd better watch out what you're up to, or you'll have the vicar on your track."
"I'll tell you where you'll end, my lad," said the captain, turning on him sharply.
"Where, sir?" said young Jerk, looking really interested.
